Due to a sudden, unexpected passing in the family a few years ago and another more recently and my subsequent (mental) health issues stemming from that, I was unable to download this book in time to review it before it was archived as I did not visit this site for several years after the bereavements. This meant I didn't read or venture onto netgalley for years as not only did it remind me of that person as they shared my passion for reading, but I also struggled to maintain interest in anything due to overwhelming depression. I was therefore unable to download this title in time and so I couldn't give a review as it wasn't successfully acquired before it was archived. The second issue that has happened with some of my other books is that I had them downloaded to one particular device and said device is now defunct, so I have no access to those books anymore, sadly.

This means I can't leave an accurate reflection of my feelings towards the book as I am unable to read it now and so I am leaving a message of explanation instead. I am now back to reading and reviewing full time as once considerable time had passed I have found that books have been helping me significantly in terms of my mindset and mental health - this was after having no interest in anything for quite a number of years after the passings. Anything requested and approved will be read and a review written and posted to Amazon (where I am a Hall of Famer & Top Reviewer), Goodreads (where I have several thousand friends and the same amount who follow my reviews) and Waterstones (or Barnes & Noble if the publisher is American based). Thank you for the opportunity and apologies for the inconvenience

Wonderfully written. Both nostalgic and haunting, yet bursting with life. A must-read for any environmental humanities student. It will be making its way onto my syllabus in California.

It's quite difficult to say just how staggering this book is, both in terms of writing and content. English Pastoral is one of those books you simply need to read to gain any understanding.

I loved this book, it was so interesting to read Jame's perspective on rural life. There is so much explored within the narrative, rural life, family ties, ambitions and loyalty. It was good to see an honest opinion on the ways in which farming and living from the land have changed. I live quite rurally and know of a few people who run large farms and I always wonder what compels them to keep going. It is such a lot of work and sometimes for very little reward. But this book goes some way to answering that question.
This is not the type of memoir I would normally read but I'm so pleased that I have had the opportunity to do so.

I was invested in this book from the very beginning. James paints such a vivid picture of the english countryside. The journey through farming in his family's generations was beautiful but to overlay this with what is happening in the wider farming industry over the decades was a real eye opener for me. It has given me a new perspective on things. I felt this book covers so many different genres from memoir to environmental non fiction. As a vegetarian and someone who is passionate about being where my food has come from and how it is grown, this book still manage to bring new insight for me. It was honest, real and moving. Loved it

James Rebanks is both passionate about the way he farms in the hills of the Lake District and is lyrical and powerful in the way he tells his 'story'' working with nature rather than against it. I especially enjoyed his recall of what it was like to be a young boy helping out and working on his grandfather's farm in the days before modern industrial farming.
Interesting to note that in his critique of modern farming Rebank's doesn’t have much enthusiasm for the current fashion for rewilding. Instead he argues that productive farms need to be made better places for wildlife. Putting 'farming and nature back together,’ rather than abandoning large areas of farmland to nature,
Loved this for the pure pleasure of reading about the English countryside and the descriptions of farming both then and now.

English Pastoral: An Inheritance by James Rebanks is a wonderful book that takes us into the heart of the English countryside and the legacy associated with the family farm.

This is such a great book. It is part memoir, part nonfiction, part musings, part nature diary, part environmental and conservation in nature.

Here we can follow the author as we see the state of the farming business and industry here today. We can see the threats that are involving the land, the crop, the animals, and what is affecting the family themselves. We can see how this is different from his lineage and ancestors. The evolution of change internally and externally is presented throughout.

A fascinating look at a monumental and fundamental pillar of the English existence.

5/5 stars

Thank you NG and Allen Lane/Penguin Press UK for this wonderful arc and in return I am submitting my unbiased and voluntary review and opinion.

I am posting this review to my GR, Bookbub, Amazon, Instagram, and B&N accounts immediately. Publication date: 9/3/20.

Thank you very much for the opportunity to read this. I think I was hoping for a bit more. I’m just not exactly sure what that was.

I thought this might be a wonderful nature read such as Raynor Winn’s But sadly I didn’t engage with this title and didn’t finish it. I wish the author the very best of luck with this book and future books.

What a tremendously hopeful, humble and honest book. Not only the author's love for the land he farms, which can be felt on every single page, makes it a beautiful read, but it's refreshing to take in such a nuanced account on the needlessly divisive subject of farming. James Rebanks sets an example : owning the mistakes of the past and our present errors, he shows that what is important is to keep trying, to better ourselves wherever we can for the sake of what we want to protect. A highly-deserving recipient of the Wainwright Prize!

I found myself immediately engaged by the author's ability to take you with him on a journey through his childhood growing up on a farm. I felt connected to both his life and the years spent with his grandfather - some flashbacks to time spent with my grandfather, traipsing across fields, wheat above the waist, swaying in the wind.

As we travelled with him through the lessons learned in that rich time spent with his grandad and his tumultuous yet formative relationship with his father, we begin to get a glimpse of the challenges, burdens and joy of farming the English countryside. It is at this point we are invited in to understand how all of us play a part in the past and the future of farming and its ecological impact. We are challenged to think differently, to live more quietly and consider the impact our demand for more food at a lower cost has.

I think the author puts it best in this quote:

“We created a society obsessed with food choices and ethics, while disconnecting most people from the practical agricultural and ecological knowledge to make those choices. Now people worry about what they should eat, but have largely lost sight of how their local landscapes should be farmed, and what foodstuffs they can produce sustainably. Most people are now largely illiterate when it comes to agriculture and ecology. This is a cultural disaster, because the global challenge of how we live sustainably on this planet is everywhere really a local challenge. How can we farm in ways that will endure and do the least harm? And what does that local farming produce for us to eat? This is not an argument for entirely eating local foodstuffs – I like bananas as much as the next person – but a reminder that it is good sense for a lot of our food to be produced around us and under our gaze.”

I am left with a growing burden to rethink how I eat and live. Moving from being a spectator to an active participant in how my local landscape is farmed by the choices I make. I expected an easy walk alongside a farmer and shepherd. The journey turned out to be more challenging and demanding than I could have imagined. You will require good walking boots to read this book.

If I had known this was going to be a book about farming I probably wouldn't have picked it up, but I'm so pleased that I did end up reading it.

'English Pastoral', part memoir, part call for agricultural change, charts the history of a farm in England's Lake District, and the family who have worked it. (It is not in fact a nod to Roth's 'American Pastoral', at least not as far as I can tell.)

The three parts follow the narrator through his idyllic, bucolic childhood, learning from his grandfather's purist approach to farming; his growing disillusionment with the corporate, large-scale direction farming that was consuming his land and his joy; and finally his vision for the kind of farming he wants his children to inherit, one that respects nature, its beauty and diversity.

Rebanks has a lyrical, clear-eyed style of writing about the joys of nature, and of beauty that surprises. His imagery and descriptions seemed fresh and not derivative. His sheer delight in his land, in both the grand and small things that happen on it, is charming and contagious.

At the same time, the book is not starry-eyed. The book's structure allows Rebanks to be clear in purpose and argument. It is difficult to imagine anyone reading it who would deny that change is needed in humanity's relationship with its food. Yet it doesn't read as preachy. The author does very well with laying out the complexities of the problem, and of warning against demonising or beatifying any of the players. Farmers want to farm more sustainably, to take pride in their land and their work. They must be respected and not just told what to do, or have it done for them. They need to be worked with, not against.

Rebanks doesn't dwell on it, but I loved his descriptions of his relationships with his father and grandfather, and how these relationships are reflected in his own relationships with his young children. I think perhaps the book could have benefitted from more of this. For example, his wife (Helen?) is no more than an outline. There may be quite legitimate concerns for privacy here, but I think this kind of book thrives on interpersonal dynamics.

These passages I think demonstrate why I've describe Rebanks' writing as lyrical, and at times even spiritual:

'Our land is like a poem, in a patchwork landscape of other poems, written by hundreds of people, both those here and now and the many hundreds that came before us, with each generation adding new layers of meaning and experience. And the poem, if you can read it, tells a complex truth. It has both moments of great beauty and of heartbreak. It tells of human triumph and failings, of what is good in people and what is flawed; and what we need, and how in our greed we can destroy precious things. It tells of what stays the same, and what changes; and of honest hard-working folk, clinging on over countless generations, to avoid being swept away by the giant waves of a storm as the world changes. It is also the story of those who lost their grip and were swept away from the land, but who still care, and are now trying to find their way home.'

'I have worked here my whole life, but I am only now beginning to truly know this piece of land. I stumble across a field at a different time of day, or in different light, and I feel as if I have never seen it before - not the way it is now. The more I learn about it, the more beautiful our farm and valley becomes. It pains me to ever be away; I never want to be wrenched from this place and its constant motion. The longer I am here, the clearer I hear the music of this valley: the Jenny wren in the undergrowth; the Scots pines creaking and groaning in the wind; the meadow grasses whispering. The distinction between me and this place blurs until I become part of it, and when they set me in the earth here, it will be the conclusion of a longer lifelong story of return. The 'I' and the 'me' fades away, erodes with each passing day, until it is already an effort to remember who I am and why I am supposed to matter. The modern world worships the idea of the self, the individual, but it is a gilded cage: there is another kind of freedom in becoming absorbed in a little life on the land. In a noisy age, I think perhaps trying to live quietly might be a virtue.'

This book is both a delight to read, and a real challenge.

English Pastoral was one of my most hotly anticipated releases this year. It is a love letter to traditional farming and the writing is just so beautiful and moving. Soil heath is such an important topic and the conversations which are started in this book are not preachy or filled with doom. It is thoughtful, it is reflective, and it is a vital read.

One of the best books I've read this year. English Pastoral takes you on a journey through the author's past as he lays witness to destruction in the name of progress and how it has changed our attitudes to farming as well as what our landscape looks like. I really enjoyed how he incorporated deft descriptions of his childhood on the farm with clear explanations of the issues that face many farmers today. Brilliant!

(Short Twitter post)
I’ve just read the beautiful ‘English Pastoral’ by James Rebanks @herdyshepherd1 . Images remain of gulls following the tractor but I just couldn’t get @JeremyClarkson out of my head all the time I was reading it!

I very much enjoyed the first and third sections of this book - learning about how a fell farm was run up until the late 1970s was fascinating and then set the scene for the 3rd section where Rebanks shows all that he's doing to return his land to as natural as possible while still keeping the business profitable.

These two sections were wonderfully personal and really drew me into the farming world and I loved the insights into land management,
The middle section felt a little more didactic and preachy but on the whole a fascinating read and well deserving of its spot on the Wainwright Prize long list

English Pastoral is a beautiful love letter to traditional English farming.
Rebanks takes us through the journey of three generations on the farm in three parts. The first part talks about his childhood on the farm and his grandfather teaching him the ways of the land. The second part is Rebanks in his twenties, he’s experienced modern farming overseas and has ideas on how to move the farm forward, this includes using chemicals to protect the crops and enhance the livestock. Part three is Rebank’s time on the farm and their realisation that all they’ve been doing to keep up with modern farming has actually been having a counterproductive event.
It is a story of hope, a farming family brought to the brink of collapse that realise, in time, the real way forward can sometimes be backwards.
There is just too much goodness in this book to cover it all here. It’s beautifully written, it’s heartfelt and evocative. It pulls you into the pages, and I could have quite happily stayed living on that hardworking little farm on the fells.
There are some charming little anecdotes in this book, and the reverence with which Rebanks tells them is palpable. Rebanks is acutely aware of the contrast in farming techniques and frequently draws comparisons. From his grandfather gently moving a nest from one part of a field he’s cutting back (then moving in back again), to modern-day combines just hacking their way through a field regardless of the wildlife within.
This also re-affirms his grandfathers earlier statement that modern-day farmers sitting up in the cabs of their tractors have lost touch with the land.
This modern-way of farming doesn’t quite sit right with Rebanks and his father, they know that something is not quite right with the way they do things, but what else can they do to keep up with modern demands. The pivotal moment comes when Harry passes away. Harry is a local farmer of the same generation as Redbank’s grandfather, he’s stayed connected to the land and hasn’t gone in for all these modern ways. Another farmer who plans to buy the land gets the soil tested (in anticipation of what nutrients he may have to put into it) the soil inspector explains that the soil is healthy. In fact, it’s some of the best soil he’s ever seen.
This is when Rebanks begins to realise that the farmers themselves are the problem with the land. The ultimate irony that the very people who are supposed to be caring for the land are also the ones slowly destroying it.
Not only is this an exquisite little memoir, it is also a lesson on looking after the land. Rebanks lays it out as it is; in cold hard detail, this is what happened this is what he did about it. There is no preaching, but if we’re lucky we’ll learn something from it

English Pastoral takes the reader back in time to a period when land was worked according to to weather and the season, the wildlife and community together in the meadows and fields. Rebanks inherited his family farm and found a different world to that one, a more sterile and less wild version of what had once been. Restoring the farm means creating something both old and new, and the book is filled with a sense of hope for a future that really could belong to all of us.

I loved this beautiful book about life through the generations on a Lake District farm. It was fascinating to read how customs and practices have changed over time, often in ways that are bittersweet. If I didn't already live in the countryside, this would make me long to relocate. Wild and spare and beautiful, this is a book for anyone with an interest in the natural world or love of the countryside.

Thank you to NetGalley and to the publisher, who sent me a free ARC copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

This is a thoughtful and poetic part-polemic, part-memoir about the author’s family and their struggles and successes as farmers in England’s Lake District. Recommended reading for anyone interested in farming, food, ecology or rural life.

In the depths of a dark January, this was a powerful read.

"I had inherited a complex bundle of economic and ecological challenges - and that, perhaps, was what it really meant to be a farmer...a farm swallows you up, takes everything you have, and then asks for more. It is also an exercise in humility: you can’t do it alone."

In his mid-forties, now a father, the author looks back at what it means to be a farmer in present-day England, but also what it means to bear the weight of the inheritance of farming he has received from his father and grandfather. Men who inhabited and raised him in what is now an unrecognisable world.

There is a real sense of poignancy in this text, and I think I received this book better now I'm closer to the author's age, than I would if I was a younger reader. He writes of being born into a farming world that was already passing away when he was young. Yet, beyond the land owned by his family, farming beyond England was changing, and this book is his record of how he - unlike those before him - have had to deal with these changes, and profoundly adapt - changes related to mechanisation and the economy, but more ominously, of the irrevocably changing climate.

Continuity and the break from it is the recurrent theme of the book. I am a city dweller, not a frequent reader of writing on the natural world, but the text and his description of the land and its changes had me transfixed. I had never really considered what an act of faith it is to work the land and how dependant you are on methods, tools, wildlife, and the weather. "A hard way of living made for hard people."

Yet this book shows that change is messy but inevitable. What does it mean to inherit a tradition, to be in love with something ancient and beautiful and painful - and to be unsure if it will even last out your lifetime, let alone that of your children?

Most of all this is a book about what it means to be a son and a father, about dealing with grief, and the weight of these roles, these vocations, even. "We each have but a fleeting moment between those who came before and those who come afterwards." How does one continue a tradition in the wake of death, at the anger of a world passing away, and still have the courage to adapt that tradition and land in ways that could never have been imagined? What does it mean to have the courage to change?

I learnt so much from this book - about the nature of farming, of raising cattle, of the differences in the work done by hand and that by mechanisation and chemicals, of the frightening changes in the breeding and feeding that have gone in my own lifetime, the shift into 'units of production,' the importance of the quality of soil, and the stunning decline of birds, butterflies and hedgehogs.

I eagerly commend this book - and this comes as a shock, as I profoundly disliked the author's first book, a quasi-biography which was greeted by vast acclaim. I found this a better read in every way.

This book could have easily been parochial and depressing, but it is a text founded on realism, of what it means to survive and for the land to survive. He reports of the adaptations that he has made in his work, taking the best of ancient practices and combining them where possible with new, sustainable methods - "to build a new English Pastoral: not a utopia, but somewhere decent for us all."